


where soul meets body

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Hotel Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the Grand Prix Final, Victor wants to show his love to the whole of Spain.





	

Victor drank just enough champagne at the banquet to be pleasantly tipsy, to have all his nerves buzzing and humming at Yuuri's every touch. Barcelona is three thousand kilometres from Sochi and a whole universe away, one where Yuuri danced with him all night until they were both too worked up to do anything but slip away back to their hotel room together, making out in the lift, already unbuttoning each others' suits before they even got through the door.

Now Yuuri's pulled Victor's tie out from under his waistcoat and is using it to keep him close, kissing and pulling him across the room to the window seat. Victor collapses down onto it and looks up at Yuuri as he straddles his lap. His gorgeous brown eyes are dark with arousal, his lips already a little pink and swollen, and while earlier they'd slicked back his hair like they do when he's on the ice it's already starting to come loose and fall messily around his face.

Yuuri touches his cheek gently and Victor turns to kiss the cool metal of his ring. Whatever else the rings might be, Victor had meant it as a promise. _I'm yours,_ he thinks, letting his lips move down over Yuuri's palm to where the pulse flutters at his wrist, _yours and everyone knows it_.

They kiss again, less frantic but just as needy, Yuuri's arms looped around Victor's neck and their hips shifting. He can feel just how hard Yuuri is already through the trousers of his new suit, the suit that somehow makes him look even more ungodly attractive than he did already. The contrast between the cold glass against Victor's back and the heat of Yuuri's body is making him shiver.

"I was thinking," Yuuri begins softly, his face turned into Victor's neck. He's heard that phrase a few times now since the Cup of China and if Yuuri carries on like this Victor's going to develop a hair-trigger erection any time he claims to have been thinking. "I was thinking that maybe we should just… stay here for now. Right by the window."

Victor gasps a little, and then grins. "Where anyone could see?"

Yuuri nods, his face still turned away which means he's probably gone bright red. "Where anyone could see." He presses a hot, sucking kiss to Victor's neck.

Their room is on the eleventh floor, so anyone who saw would really have to be looking, but they _could_ see. Anyone at all could look up and watch Victor Nikiforov, living legend of the figure skating world, getting fucked by his student. His boyfriend. His husband-to-be. Half the blood in Victor's body races to his crotch in an instant and his trousers and underwear are suddenly, painfully constricting.

"Yes," he hisses back, grinding his hips up, "please, Yuuri, show everyone what you do to me." He feels Yuuri shudder and decides to press a little harder, lowering his voice. "I want this whole city to know how much I need your cock."

Yuuri makes a weird little noise somewhere between a giggle and a groan, mumbles, "Shit, Victor," and kisses his neck again, nipping with his teeth. There's going to be a mark there for days and Victor doesn't own anything with a collar high enough to cover it even if he wanted to. Yuuri does it again, then moves around to leave another love-bite on the other side of Victor's neck, and then he stands up and shucks off his unbuttoned waistcoat.

"I'm getting the lube," he says, and his face is still flushed but his voice is utterly steady. "Strip."

Somehow Victor has the wherewithal to get his clothes off, stealing glances out of the window behind him as he does. The whole of Barcelona is spread out below, glittering with Christmas lights, a city of strangers to bear witness to Victor's love. He closes his eyes briefly when he feels Yuuri's hand against his bare back, then turns to look at him. He's loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves and taken off his belt but otherwise he's still wearing his gorgeous new clothes, and something about that makes the whole scenario even hotter than it was already. As capable as he and Yuuri are of talking completely past each other, sometimes there are things that both of them understand without words, in the language of one another's bodies.

Yuuri sets the lube down on the windowseat and ghosts his fingertips along the underside of Victor's cock. "You're so hard for me," he murmurs. "So needy, Victor."

Victor tries not to jerk his hips after every phantom sensation Yuuri's offering him. "I always need you," he says. "This whole year I've needed you, so badly."

"And now you have me," Yuuri says, and then he's kissing Victor and his hand is around his cock properly, stroking and squeezing, coating him in his own pre-come. Victor grabs at Yuuri's shirt and then the waistband of his trousers and then presses his palm against his erection, rubbing back and forth. Yuuri bites his bottom lip in response.

"Okay," he says, releasing Victor's mouth and his cock at the same time. "Up on the window seat, on your knees. Facing out. So they can see us." Victor does as he's told and then Yuuri's hands are on his back again, running gently downwards and spreading his cheeks. The lube is cool but Yuuri's fingers are burning hot inside him, one and then two and then three, stretching and slicking him up and giving the slightest teasing presses to his prostate. Victor leans his forehead against the glass. He wants to close his eyes and lose himself in the sensations, like he always does, but he doesn't want to stop looking at the world that's looking at him, doesn't want to forget for a second that he's on display. 

He can't help a little whine when Yuuri's fingers slide wetly out of him, but he's cut off by the sound of Yuuri unzipping his fly. In a few moments more the lubed-up head of his cock is pressing at Victor's entrance.

"Yuuuuri," Victor groans, " _please_ , Yuuri."

"Please what?" Yuuri's finger, still slick with lube, traces a little circle on Victor's hip. He leans forward to press kisses to Victor's spine, each one soft and sweet and completely, cruelly teasing. For all the times he's fucked Victor utterly senseless now he still seems to like to be told every time exactly what it is Victor needs from him.

"Please fuck me," Victor says and his breath mists on the glass and Yuuri is pushing inside him and he is never going to get over how good, how utterly and completely _perfect_ this is. He remembers a year ago in Sochi, how he'd gone back to his room alone and jerked off furiously to the thought of Yuuri's muscular thighs and the outline of his cock in those tight boxer briefs, and now Yuuri's cock is inside him and Yuuri's ring is on his finger and if there's anyone in the world who doesn't know how much Victor wants him, needs him, _loves him_ then he's going to fix that right now.

There's a little patch of moisture on the window now where Victor's face is pressed against it, where his breath condenses and evaporates again in the heat coming off his skin. Yuuri is thrusting into him slowly still, and Victor can feel the fabric of his unbuttoned trousers against his own bare ass. When Yuuri bends to kiss his back again Victor's mind is flooded with the sudden image of them doing this back down at the banquet, of Yuuri ordering him to strip and having him there in front of everyone they know. His cock jerks up against his stomach without even needing to be touched, and he whimpers softly.

"You okay?" Yuuri murmurs gently, stilling his movements. Victor nods against the glass.

"So okay," he says. "The okayest. Don't stop." He turns his head enough to look at Yuuri out of the corner of his eye. "I need you to fuck me hard, Yuuri. How else is everyone going to know how good your cock feels inside me?"

"God, Victor," Yuuri says, ducking his head as his face colours again, but his hips start to move in a firm, faster rhythm, driving in harder every time, and it's everything Victor has been needing ever since Yuuri came down from the podium and promised he would stay. Only a few nights ago Yuuri broke his heart in this exact spot, and now he's mending it up even better than before. Victor's hands press against the window, fingers splayed, his ring surrounded by the golden city lights.

"You feel so good, Victor," Yuuri says, his fingers gripping Victor's hips hard and the hint of a growl in his voice, "so tight around me, it's incredible. And everyone can see how fucking hot you are, how amazing you look when I fuck you. They know it's only me that gets to have you like this, that can make you feel this way."

"Only you," Victor agrees, panting against the window. "Only you, Yuuri. How could it- _ahh_ \- how could it ever be anyone else?"

Yuuri doesn't stop fucking him but he lifts one hand from Victor's hip to turn his head around enough to kiss him. The angle is awkward as hell so it's only brief, but it's sweet and loving and the look that Yuuri gives him after is almost worshipful. Victor still has no idea what he possibly could have done to deserve this kind of devotion, and the vast and beautiful weight of it catches in his throat.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Yuuri asks, and Victor can only nod in response, and buck his hips urgently when Yuuri's hand wraps around his cock. He's already so far gone that it only takes a few strokes, a few more firm, hard thrusts from Yuuri inside him, and he's coming all over the window, semen smearing against his stomach and his softening cock and over Yuuri's hand.

"Ohh," he groans, shaking with the aftermath of his orgasm, "oh Yuuri, look at what you made me do."

Yuuri's other hand squeezes his hip hard. "Someone could have seen that, Victor," he says, tone almost like he's scolding. "Someone could have watched me make you come."

"Fuck, I hope so."

Yuuri picks up his pace then. His hand slides upwards through the mess on Victor's belly and he groans, snapping his hips up. Yuuri always takes his time finishing and it feels so good, getting fucked while his body is still hypersensitive from orgasm, like Yuuri's cock is driving right through him and into his soul. Victor looks down at the street below where people are passing even this late at night and wills one of them to look up, to see past all the media bullshit of the last two decades of his career and see who Victor Nikiforov really is. Who he really belongs to.

"I love you," Yuuri murmurs, and his right hand moves to cover Victor's where it's pressed to the window. Both their rings catch the light at the same time. "I'm close, where do you want-"

"Inside me," Victor says immediately. Yuuri leans forward and Victor can feel his smooth, silk tie drape over his back, and then Yuuri is thrusting jerkily and filling him up, and maybe Victor is seeing stars or maybe it's just the city lights twinkling back at him and watching, watching.


End file.
